


Attack

by EmScully



Series: Long Road [1]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Attack, Drama, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Rape, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 16:31:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12062829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmScully/pseuds/EmScully
Summary: Scully is attacked before work.





	Attack

Not every case they got was an X-File, much to Mulder’s disappointment. Nine times out of ten their cases revolved around deranged criminals, their acts so unspeakable that they are sent downstairs, unable to be categorized anywhere else other than “the unexplained.” Scully used to be annoyed by this, _how is a serial murder considered an X File?_ After a few years she became accustomed to the grotesque and unimaginable crimes that landed on Mulder’s desk; easily “debunked.” When the crimes were solved, criminals put to bed in their cells and victims identified; Mulder and Scully got to rest, until they didn’t.

Dana Scully didn’t consider herself a paranoid person, but she was certainly cautious. She was never without her weapon, always looking over her shoulder, and never sat with her back to a doorway. These were not uncommon practices in law enforcement. So when she was attacked, she knew it was no fault of her own. She wasn’t a victim blamer and she wouldn’t start with herself. She had been watched, stalked and studied until her habits were memorized.

The beeping of her alarm clock was a noise she loathed. It took all the self-control she had not to smash the clock every morning. Five AM on the dot it taunted her, and she obeyed; only occasionally hitting the snooze button. It was a freezing February morning, Friday, _one more day until freedom._ Her shower was scalding, her body turning red under the pounding water. It was harder to get out of the shower than it was out of bed. She had a chill she couldn’t shake and the basement was always cold, she wore slacks that day. She was running late and multitasked by brushing her teeth and blow-drying her hair at the same time, a talent she took pride in. The front steps to her building were slick with ice and she steadied herself on the brick wall to keep from going down. Her heart hammered in her chest at the near miss and she laughed quietly to herself. Six thirty AM and the sun was slowly crawling into a purple dawn, Scully loved this time of morning, the sky was gorgeous and the world was still. She huffed out a cloud of hot breath and trekked through the icy snow the few blocks to her car.

She heard the click before she heard his voice and felt the freezing pressure of gunmetal on her temple, “don’t move,” the voice breathed hot and sour into her ear, the hair on the back of her neck standing, her body shivered but not due to the cold.

She instinctively held her hands up, trying to seem unthreatening, “okay, okay,” she whispered, her eyes closing in fear. _Fuck._

A warm rough hand ran up her shirt and unsnapped her gun from her back, the sudden loss of its weight caused her mouth to go dry, “move” the voice instructed her as its owner shoved her into the small ally between her building and the one next to it. Her shivering became all too physical and she clenched her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering. “Against the wall.”

The brick was cold through her jacket and against her cheek as she was pressed into the stonewall, the gun still pressed into her temple. The man, whoever he was struggled to unzip his pants with only one hand and when the gun moved from her head and his hand lingered on her shoulder, she took advantage. She spun, smashing his arm holding the gun with her clenched fists and kneed him in the groin. The man, he was wearing a mask, _how original,_ wavered and Scully thought for a moment that he was going to drop, but he didn’t. Through his bulk, he was still fast and in the moment before Scully was able to break into a run, his giant hand cupped the side of her face and he smashed her head into the wall. Her vision blackened and she felt her knees give out. The snow and ice melted through the back of her coat and warm blood seeped into her ear and down her neck. Her vision came back in small bright bursts that sent a stabbing pain behind her eyes and around her head. _Scream! Fight! Get up!_ Her mind commanded her but her body betrayed her. She felt her head loll to one side and then the other. She felt her weight weighing her down. Then realized it wasn’t her weight, but someone else’s. He was pressing down on her, a heavy hand in her belly, cold metal on her exposed skin, jacket open and shirt torn. She couldn’t swallow and she gagged then coughed sending another blast of pain through her head. “Stay still,” the voice was strained, punctuated by deep agonizing breaths that hung above Scully like storm clouds. Her hands moved slightly at her sides, her fingernails gouging into the ice and grit, they wouldn’t obey her commands to _hit him_ , to _scratch him_ , _take the gun and shoot the mother fucker!_

His hand was at her pants, awkwardly pulling them down one side at a time. Her back stung above the ice, her thighs scratched by his fingernails. She groaned and tried to move her legs, to get away from the hand and his weight. Suddenly the gun was no longer on her belly, but inside her. The searing in her groin dimmed the pain in her head. Her scream was silent, void of breath. Her eyes opened wide in shock, then slammed shut in agony. It was unlike anything she had ever felt. The sites of the gun tore at her delicate flesh as he removed his gun; blood seeped between her thighs, steaming when it hit the ice. “Don’t fucking move.” She couldn’t even if she wanted to. Her body was no longer hers. She had no control. The absence of the gun was filled by flesh. It pounded into her, pressing up into her throat. She gagged again as she felt her fingernails tear and break in the ice. It took only moments for him to mix with her blood. His weight was gone but his shadow pinned her to her spot. “Fucking bitch, I told you I would get you.”

As he ran away into the purple turned orange morning, she realized who he was: another file on the desk. Scully stood, her body shaking violently as she pulled her wet pants back up her thighs. He had taken her gun, but her purse lay just a few feet away. She hissed at the pain when she bent down to pick it up. The stairs taunted her as she half crawled up them and back into her warm apartment. Six forty seven AM. Seventeen minutes. She stood in her living room and called the police, her voice more steady and authoritative than it had a right to be. When she made her second call, it betrayed her. “Mulder.”

“Scully, hey, I’m just grabbing a coffee. Are you already at the office? It’s not even seven yet” her partner jabbered on.

“Mulder,” she repeated.

There was a pause then a realization, “Scully? What’s wrong.”

“I need you….” Her voice cracked at the admission.

“Where are you? Your apartment? I’m coming.” She nodded and held the phone to her ear long after it had disconnected.

When Mulder made it to Scully’s apartment he was held back by a rookie officer, “sir, this is a crime scene,” the young man said in a matter-of-fact tone and held his hand to Mulder’s chest. Mulder pulled out his badge and shoved past the young man, sprinting towards the open door to Scully’s building. He pushed passed another officer and made his way into her apartment where paramedics flanked her on the couch. Her eyes glistened with tears as she saw him.

“Mulder…” her voice was high and quiet, unfamiliar to her ears.

He didn’t move, he felt stuck by the sight of her, “I’m here, Scully.” She nodded and let a tear fall before she pushed her palms into her eyes. He couldn’t help but notice her bloodied fingers. He tried to swallow the pit in the back of his throat but it was lodged, heavy and suffocating.


End file.
